Red rose

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Soft white snow,

frosted,

on the petals

of a red rose,

weeping

on the floor,

blanket covered

cobbles now

its eternal 

resting place.


Discarded,

frozen.

All around

the beauty 

slumbers,

awaiting spring,

and life's blessing.


This red rose,

weeps alone.

A wrinkled hand

picks it up,

weeps red tears

upon it,

and whispers

I understand.



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